Always With the Witches
by xenascully
Summary: After Sam and Dean wipe out a coven in Bristol, Kansas, some strange and disturbing things begin to happen to Dean. With the coven burned, Sam and Castiel struggle find out how and why this is happening, and more importantly, how to make it stop…
1. Chapter 1

Always with the Witches

Rated T [graphic descriptions]

Summary: After Sam and Dean wipe out a coven in Bristol, Kansas, some strange and disturbing things begin to happen to Dean. With the coven burned, Sam and Castiel struggle find out how and why this is happening, and more importantly, how to make it stop…

*~.~*

Day One

It was a Thursday in the middle of May. The Winchester brothers had finished up a hunt in Bristol, a little over six hours from home, and decided to stop for grub before heading back to the bunker. Sam's hair was still a little damp from the shower he took at the motel right before they'd checked out.

Their waitress, a dirty-blond woman looking in her early thirties, overheard them discussing something about having 'gotten rid of the Bristol coven' right outside of town, even though they were talking with rather hushed voices. It made her pause for a moment, but she shook her head as if to clear it, then made her way into their line of sight. "Are you ready to order?" she asked.

"Absolutely," Dean told her, a flirty smile playing on his face. "I'll have the chicken-fried steak and a double order of mashed potatoes and gravy. Oh! And a chocolate shake. Large."

Sam made a face at his brother's selection before turning to the waitress. "I'll just have the grilled chicken salad, please," he said with a friendly smile.

She smiled back at him. "You want another beer?"

"Uh…sure, yeah. Thanks." They waited for her to head away before they resumed their conversation. "You should've gotten coffee."

"Dude, I'll get coffee when we gas up."

"Well you're gonna need _something _to recover from the inevitable sugar crash."

"Damnit. I think I got some gasoline on my boots. It stinks." He stuck his leg out to see if he could locate the source of the offense.

"Yeah, about that," Sam said. "You really think it was a good idea to burn the whole place down?"

"It was secluded, Sam. No other houses around for at least a mile. It was that or waste time building pyres to accommodate eight friggin' bitches." A crash came from behind the bar, and they both glanced over to see that their waitress had broken something glass that had tumbled to the floor. She quickly turned away from them and grabbed a broom. Sam and Dean turned back to each other. "Anyway, that place is probably already dust by now. All that old, musty barn wood barely keeping it standing in the first place. They were probably keeping it standing with some spell…"

*~.~*

Day Two

It was 9 a.m. before Sam rolled out of bed the next day. It'd been a long drive with Dean talking a mile a minute about how great the shake he'd had last night was and how he'd wished he'd gotten another to go. Sam splashed some water over his face and dried it, then caught a whiff of breakfast being cooked. He made his way toward the kitchen.

"Mornin', Sammy!" Dean said cheerfully as he plated a third pancake on a triple-stack. There was another plate beside it complete with equal portions of eggs and bacon. "I made us grand-slams. I know it's missing the toast, but that's because we're outta bread."

"Maybe because you made us Dagwoods for lunch Monday," Sam commented, a brow raised in amusement. "What's with the carb-fest lately?" he asked as he dropped onto a stool at the island.

"Carb-fest? What're you Dr. Atkins? I'm just trying to recreate the classics here."

"The grand-slam has _two _pancakes, not three," he said, ignoring Dean's comment.

"I'm making up for the missing toast. Now shut up and be grateful for this amazing bounty."

"Shouldn't there be orange juice?"

Dean, who had been rounding the island to take his seat beside Sam, stopped and glared at his younger brother. "There's _coffee_," he said, pointing it out where it sat beside the plate. "You want OJ too? Fine." He turned and made his way to the fridge, grabbing a glass from the counter on the way. "Always were a _particular_ little bitch."

"What?"

"Nothing!"

"We really shouldn't eat like this so much. It's not healthy."

"Dude, we burn all this off and then some. We _need _to eat like this." He quickly filled the glass and closed the fridge door. He took a step back toward the island but stopped suddenly when he felt something burst in his chest; something white hot and so fast, he wasn't sure it had been real.

"The pancakes are good, though," Sam said around a mouthful of the confection. "Musta been a short-order cook in a past life."

"Sam..." Dean could feel pressure begin to build behind his ribs.

"Okay, maybe a chef," Sam amended. Then he heard a glass hitting the floor and shattering and he quickly turned to look. That's when he realized that Dean was standing near the fridge still, his posture and expression strangely unreadable. "Dean?"

"Somethin' ain't right, Sammy," Dean said, his voice shaky with pain or fear, Sam wasn't sure. Then Dean's eyes were widening, and he was gasping for breath, his knees shaking beneath him before they gave out completely and he was on his knees on the floor.

"Dean!" Sam was out of his seat before his brother could fall over head-first. He skidded to his own knees in front of him, reaching out to catch Dean's upper body as it fell forward. "Dean, what's happening?" he asked fearfully as he searched Dean with his hands.

"I…I dunno. I can't breathe. Sammy, it hurts…"

"What hurts?"

Dean couldn't reply as his breath seemed to squeeze out of him completely. He clutched at his chest with one hand as his other gripped the front of Sam's shirt with the other, panicked. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Dean, hey!" Sam felt his own chest begin to tighten in fear as he laid Dean down on his back to get a better view of what might be going on. "Oh god…" His eyes stung at the sight of his brother. Dean's skin was covered in a sheen layer of sweat, his face and neck red with strain as he tried to breathe.

His own breath now lost, Sam instinctively reached his fingers to Dean's neck, checking Dean's heartbeat. He could barely feel it, and that fact terrified him. "No… This is… This can't be…" He dug into the pocket of his jeans to grab his phone. His hand shook as it hovered over the screen. His eyes focused back on Dean's face to see his brother's eyes roll back into his head, his body spasming in its attempt to get air. "Nonononono, Dean! Dean, stay with me!" He pressed a hand to Dean's chest and tried to shake him back into consciousness. Fear and desperation brought Castiel into his mind, so he called out for him, hoping with everything in him that the angel would hear.

"Sam?" the angel's voice sounded beside him.

"Cas!" Relief hit Sam like a punch, though fear was still burning in his chest. "Something's wrong with Dean!"

"I _thought_ I could sense his distress," Castiel said as he crouched down beside the older brother and reached out a hand to hover over Dean's body. His face pinched. "It's his heart…"

"I know! I couldn't find a pulse! You need to fix him!"

Cas's palm touched down on Dean's too-still chest and Sam's gaze went back and forth between his brother's face and the angel's as nothing happened. "Cas?"

"I…can't fix this," he replied. "Something is very strange…"

"What? What do you mean you can't fix him?" Sam nearly screamed at him as he looked at Dean's lifeless body. He looked back to Castiel's face which was painted in confusion, the image becoming hazy as tears stung at Sam's eyes…

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

"Call an ambulance!" Sam shouted as he jumped to straddle Dean to begin chest compressions. Within a matter of seconds, Dean shot up off the floor inhaling like he'd just popped up out of the ocean. "Dean!" Cas looked up from his phone, ending the call before anyone picked up.

"Get off—" he begged as he tried to pull in the much-needed oxygen. Sam was quick to comply, at his side immediately to help him to stay upright where he sat. "Holy crap!" Dean said between gulping breaths.

"Are you okay? Are you still in pain?" he asked as he checked for his pulse again.

"I'm okay," Dean replied, swatting at Sam's hand.

"What the hell _was _that, Dean?"

"It was a massive heart attack," Castiel replied for him, eying Dean with curiosity. "And you say that you feel okay now?"

"Yeah," Dean said breathily. "You healed me, right?"

"I tried to, but…"

"It must've had a delayed reaction?" Sam offered.

"Well I'm fine now, so…"

"We don't know that, Dean!" Sam looked at him with wide, concerned eyes. "We need to get you to a hospital. You need to get checked out."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sam," Dean said as he pushed up off the floor. "Cas healed me. I'm all good."

"That's not true, Dean," Cas interrupted. "I did try, but whatever caused this to happen to you was beyond my ability to stop."

Dean looked dumbfounded between his brother and the angel. "But you can see I'm fine now," he said, and in that same moment his head spun and Cas hurried to steady him before he could fall back down.

"You're going to a hospital," Sam said sternly.

Dean let out a frustrated sigh and shrugged away from Castiel's assistance. "Can I at least put some clothes on?" he asked as he glanced down at the shorts, tee shirt and robe he was in.

*~.~*

"Sam Holden?" a doctor asked as he entered the waiting area.

"That's me," Sam said as he stood, Cas getting up as well. "How is he?"

"We ran some tests. An EKG and a blood test to check for enzymes that'll show up after a cardiac event. We didn't find anything that indicates there was a problem with his heart, but I did notice some residual signs of tissue damage."

"What does that _mean_?"

"We were certain that it was his heart," Cas added, confused.

"It's possible that he was electrocuted," the doctor told them.

Sam scoffed. "He was standing in the middle of the kitchen holding a glass of juice."

"I'm not saying that I know what caused it. I'm simply stating what I believe we found. Regardless, he seems to be in perfect health."

Sam turned to Castiel as if the answer might lie within him…

*~.~*

After sneaking Dean out of the hospital and getting back to the bunker, Sam couldn't help but to keep his eye on his brother. Whatever happened in the kitchen was as disturbing as it was frightening. Cas had gone over every square inch of the kitchen in search of a possible culprit for what caused the apparent shock but found nothing.

"I do _not_ need to be in bed, Sam!" Dean argued as Sam tried to push him down into it.

"You were electrocuted, you idiot. You need to take it easy."

"There's no actual proof that anything happened to me," Dean argued.

"You mean except for the fact that your heart stopped right in front of me?" Sam said through gritted teeth.

"Dude, you need to chill out. Maybe Cas's x-ray vision was on the fritz."

"I checked your pulse, Dean," he said, his voice cracking at the end. It made Dean meet his brother's eyes and he felt like a dick when he saw the moisture building there.

Dean heaved a sigh and sat down on the side of the bed. "Fine. I'll kick back for a bit. But you gotta get me some grub, man. I never got to eat breakfast. Think you can pick up some burgers or something?"

"No burgers," Castiel said as he entered the room.

"Whattya mean no burgers?" Dean asked wide-eyed.

"Regardless of what the physician found, your heart was affected this morning. According to the internet you should refrain from eating fats and sodium."

"Oh, _come on_!"

"Cas has a point," Sam said. "Better safe than sorry."

"Great. Just awesome," Dean scoffed as he put his feet up on the mattress and leaned over to his nightstand to open the drawer. He pulled out a half-full bottle of whiskey and a glass.

"It also said that you should avoid imbibing alcohol," Cas said, stepping forward a bit.

"So, what the hell am I supposed to drink?"

"Water would be acceptable," Cas told him.

Dean stared at him for a long moment. "Are you freaking kidding me?"

"Look," Sam said, trying to calm the situation. "I'll go make you something you can eat. I've got some cranberry-apple juice in the fridge you can try. Why don't you just take a nap and I'll wake you when it's ready."

Still trapped by Sam's puppy-dog eyes, Dean rolled his own. "Yeah okay. Guess I could use some shut eye…"

~*.*~

Day Three

"Good morning, Dean," Castiel said as Dean strolled sleepily into the kitchen. "You had a restless sleep last night. How are you feeling?"

"Just peachy," Dean replied, making his way to the fridge. He reached for the handle but stopped with his hand hanging in the air in front of it, then turned his head to Castiel. "You checked this thing for shorts, right?"

"The refrigerator is safe," Cas confirmed. "But I've already taken the liberty of preparing breakfast for you."

"Oh, great," he said, rolling his eyes as he made his way toward Cas. "What is it? A bran muffin? Some kinda douchy green juice?"

"Honey Nut Cheerios," he said. "I saw a commercial that said they were a heart-healthy part of a complete breakfast."

Dean raised a brow at him before looking down at the bowl of cereal, a half-glass of milk beside it, orange juice in another, and some sliced apples in a little bowl. Then he shrugged and sat down in front of the meal. "Preventing heart disease and scurvy all in one meal."

"This is acceptable?"

"At least they're honey nut," he said around a mouthful of the oat circles. "Where's Sam?"

"He was up half the night double-checking the bunker for electrical anomalies and abnormalities. I believe he spent the rest of it doing medical research on the internet and checking in on you."

"Lemme guess. He told you to babysit me while he takes a nap."

"He asked me to watch over you. I didn't need to be asked, Dean. I'd have done it either way."

Dean met Cas's eyes and read the genuine concern there. "I get it, okay? But you gotta believe me when I say I'm fine. I really am. You need to stop worrying. Both of you."

Cas sat down beside Dean, turned toward the taller man. "You should try to look at it through your brother's eyes. If it'd been him that had collapsed a few feet in front of you, and you couldn't find his pulse… Would you really be satisfied at his insistence that he was 'okay'?"

"We'd be halfway to a second and third opinion by someone who knows what the hell they're doing."

"Yet you wouldn't even stay for an entire doctor's visit for yourself."

"Hey, if it'll make you guys feel better, I'll go for a second opinion."

"Good," Sam said as he appeared in the doorway. "'Cause I found a great cardiologist online. It's a three-hour drive. We can get a room there so we don't have to drive back right away… Dean?" Sam walked toward his brother when Dean grabbed his left arm, his face pinching in discomfort. Dean grunted in pain and Sam's eyes widened as he knelt before him and reached to check Dean's carotid.

"S'not my heart," Dean ground out, swatting Sam's hand away. But Sam kept fussing, his fear keeping him from comprehending completely. "It's my arm, Sam. Something's…burning." He tore at his sleeve, yanking it up over his shoulder in attempt to find the culprit.

"Holy crap!" Sam said when he saw it. "Is that—"

"The burn," Castiel said curiously as he reached forward to touch the burn on Dean's shoulder in the form of a familiar hand print. "This has been gone for a long while. I don't understand."

"What's with the freakin' rerun, damnit!" Dean yelled over the searing pain. "Can you fix it?" he asked, looking up at the angel.

Cas immediately pressed fingers to Dean's forehead, but nothing happened. "It's the same as yesterday," he said, glancing to Sam. "This has to be some form of…strong magic."

"Magic? As in witches?" he asked with wide eyes. "We took that coven _out_!" He watched as Sam's eyes searched the air between them, then noticed that the pain seemed to be less prevalent suddenly. "Wait…wait. I think it's getting better," Dean said looking hopeful.

Castiel went back to examining the hand print only to see it begin to fade away before his eyes. "Perhaps you touched something you weren't supposed to…"

"We burned that place to the ground, Cas," Sam told him. "altars and all."

"Perhaps one of them slipped something onto Dean without him realizing it. It wouldn't have burned with the rest of the house."

"Like a hex bag?" Dean asked. "I ain't wearing what I wore that night."

"You weren't wearing them yesterday either," Sam chimed in. "You said this was a rerun… That heart thing that happened to you yesterday… Remember the faith-healer in Nebraska? Le Grange?"

"What, like a decade ago? You mean when… Oh…" Dean's eyes seemed to focus elsewhere. "That's why it felt so familiar…"

"It felt just like that? When you were shocked?"

"Yeah, well it was different than a heart attack. And I say that as a person who's had three of them, which is a really messed up fact since I ain't even forty."

"No one casted any spells in there. We'd have heard them. This doesn't make sense. What even is the end game? This stuff happens for what…a couple of minutes? Then goes away."

"Leaving small bits of residual damage behind," Cas added.

"If it ain't witches, what could it be?" Dean asked, clearly frustrated. "Is…is this like some form of a ghost sickness? Is there an extremely bored trickster-god that caught our trail? Ah hell… Gabriel, is this you?" he yelled at the ceiling.

"Gabriel is dead," Castiel reminded them.

"Okay, guys," Sam said, holding his palms out toward each of them. "Let's look at what we know. Both of these…incidents happened right here in the kitchen. Both in the morning." He walked over to the cabinets and opened a drawer, fishing around until he found the EMF reader he'd stashed there. He flipped it on and pointed it around the room before pointing it at Dean. "Okay, you're not haunted. It's not a ghost sickness and it's not a spirit messing with you."

"How reassuring," Dean said sarcastically.

"Maybe we missed something…back at the coven. Maybe something didn't burn," Sam thought aloud.

"You thought of that last night," Cas reminded him. "I checked it out. Everything was ash and debris from the framing of what used to be the house."

"Well then maybe—"

"I have already torn the bunker apart in search of hex bags. Not to mention, I carefully and thoroughly searched the Impala as well," Cas informed before Sam could complete the thought. "Perhaps we should consult someone powerful enough to make such a thing happen," he suggested.

"Like Rowena?" Dean asked with raised brows. "How do we know this ain't her to begin with?"

"Because the last thing she wants to do is call attention to herself, Dean," Sam reminded him. "This isn't her style. What's the motivation behind it?"

"It ain't like we haven't double-crossed her as much as she has us. An' whose style would this be, exactly?"

"It definitely feels as though whoever or whatever is doing this to you," Cas began, "Is angry with you."

"Well that narrows down the list," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe we _should _talk to Rowena," Sam conceded.

"Her style or not," Dean replied, "Right now, she's number one on the list of suspects. We better have a pretty good plan…"

*~.~*

"You were right to call me," Rowena said as she looked Dean over. "There's definitely a dark magic at work here. We'll have to find the witch that cast the curse in order to remove it." Sam, Dean, and Cas all looked at her. "Well it's not me, you big bampots!"

"Though we had considered it," Sam said, "We were sure that if it was you it'd be more…bloody."

"Aye. And ya better believe it! Besides, I've got better things to do than torture the likes of you."

"How can we find the witch who is responsible?" Castiel asked.

"Well that depends," Rowena said. "Where've you been the past few days? You said this started yesterday…"

"You sure you wanna know that?" Dean asked.

"Don't tell me you're the ones who burned the Bristol coven to the ground?" she said with a sly grin.

"You don't seem as offended as we'd assumed you might be," Sam said.

"Not at all," Rowena said as she smiled. "It wasn't _my _coven, after all. What do I care what you do with the amateurs?"

"For amateurs, I'd say they're doing a damn fine job from beyond the grave," Dean said.

"How do you even know about Bristol already?" Sam asked. "What, is there a…witch phone-tree?"

"Not exactly," Rowena replied with a raised brow. "If you'd have burned the _entire_ coven, I'd not have heard about it yet."

Sam's face went slack around the same moment Dean's did. "No one got away," Dean told her. "No one left that house but Sam and me."

"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean everyone was home at the time," she told them.

"What do you know, Rowena?" Cas demanded.

"I heard there was a girl who was on her way to becoming a member," she replied. "And for her to even be considered to join the Bristol coven, she must be something quite special."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"The Bristol coven hasn't accepted any new members in decades. Centuries even. They're all about exclusivity. Or rather, they were."

"Do you have any idea who the girl is?" Sam asked, growing impatient.

"That brings me back to my original question, doesn't it? Where've you been? Where've you been since burning that house down?"

"We came back here," Dean said. "We stopped at the motel to grab our stuff, then took off."

"Yeah," Sam concurred. "We stopped right outside of town to eat and gas up, then it was straight back here."

"You really think we came into contact with this chick?" Dean asked.

"You would've had to," Rowena replied. "She'd have needed something you touched in order to work this level of magic…"

Day One

_Beth was tucking a cash tip from her last table into her purse under the counter when two tall, inexplicably gorgeous men walked in the side door. She caught their eyes immediately and she gave them a friendly smile. "Sit anywhere you'd like and I'll bring over some menus," she told them. The taller one nodded in appreciation, then they both ducked into a booth. She glanced at herself in the reflection of the smooth steel that bordered the entryway into the kitchen, fixing a few stray hairs before she grabbed the menus and headed over to the table. "Can I get you something to drink?" she asked as she set their menus down on the table._

_The shorter one held up two fingers. "Two beers," he said shortly._

"_Any preferences?"_

"_Uh…" Sam interjected. "Anything you have on tap is fine." _

"_Sorry. Just got the bottles."_

"_Okay. That's fine. Just give us whatever's good," he told her with a smile. She smiled back and turned to head back to the counter. _

"_I am frickin' starving," she heard the shorter one say as she grabbed two bottles from the mini-fridge and headed back to the table. "No burritos for you, Sammy," he said to the other man. "We've got a six-hour drive ahead of us. No way I'm dealin' with your gas on the road."_

"_Dude!" 'Sammy' said through his teeth as Beth arrived at the table. Then he looked up at her. "We're gonna need a minute," he told her with apologetic eyes._

"_No problem," she replied. "Take all the time you need. Oh! And not to worry. We don't serve burritos here." _

"_Ha!" the shorter man pointed at Sammy with a pleased and amused grin on his face. Sam's face turned a bit pink as he ducked his head. Beth immediately felt like a huge jerk._

"_I'm sorry," she said genuinely to Sam. "I was just kidding around…"_

"_It's okay," Sam said, grinning up at her. "It's my brother's hobby to make me look the least attractive out of the two of us."_

"_Well it won't work on me," she said with a grin, then walked away to give them time to look at the menu. _

"_Just fyi, that's so not what I was doing," she heard him say to Sam._

_Beth wandered into the kitchen and grabbed her bottled water from the fridge right before the cook started up some small talk with her. She cut him short after a couple minutes went by, then began to head back to the booth. _

"…_I'm just glad we got rid of the Bristol coven all in one night…" she overhead the shorter man say. It made her pause in her steps for a moment, wondering if she had even heard them correctly. She shook the feeling off and made her way to the booth._

"_Are you ready to order?" she asked with a smile. She listened and observed as the shorter one seemed suddenly flirty, Sam looking embarrassed for the both of them as he told her his order. She pulled out her book when the shorter man's order became a lot to remember. Sam looked apologetic on account of his brother, which made her smile with warmth. _

_Beth was sweeping up behind the counter when the boys started talking oddly again. "You really think it was a good idea to burn the place down?" Sam asked. She couldn't quite hear the other man as well but made out enough to get the gist._

"…_secluded… pyres to accommodate eight friggin' bitches…" That's the moment she realized that the conversation she'd overheard earlier was exactly what she'd thought it was. Her hands began to shake and she knocked over a glass that'd been sitting on the counter. The men looked over at her and she looked away, grabbing for a broom to hide the fact that she'd been listening in. Luckily, they went right back to talking and never looked back until she brought them their food…_

_They stayed past the end of her shift, but she waited anyway. Once they got up to leave, bills stacked on the table for her, she went over to the booth and waved them goodbye as she began to pile the dishes up to carry to the kitchen. As soon as their car pulled out of the lot, she grabbed a napkin and used it to pick up the shorter man's fork, then stuck it in her apron pocket…_

_*~.~*_

_Tbc…_


	3. Chapter 3

"Say we actually find whoever it was that may or may not have done this," Dean said, turned slightly to the side in the passenger seat so that he could see Sam beside him, and Cas and Rowena in the back seat. "We just gank 'er and the curse is broken?"

"It worked last time, did it not?" Rowena asked.

"And another thing," Dean said in a scoffing manner. "Why is it always _me_? Why am I the one always getting cursed?"

"You sometimes come across to others as rude," Castiel supplied. "Perhaps it's what got you into this mess this time."

"Thanks, Cas," Dean said with sarcasm. "You're _real_ helpful."

"I don't remember you being rude to anyone, though," Sam said as he thought. "Except maybe the waitress."

"I wasn't rude to the waitress!" he defended.

"You left her a crappy tip," Sam retorted.

"If she wanted a better tip she shoulda been flirting with _me _instead of _your_ gigantor ass."

"Maybe she wasn't into _short_ guys," Sam suggested. Dean's eyes widened in mock offense.

"Alright, you two," Rowena chimed in. "You're both _very_ pretty and _quite_ tall. If it's alright with you, I'd like to discuss the plan."

"That's what I was tryin'a do before Sammy, here, decided to be a little bitch."

"Hey," Sam defended. "You asked a question and I did my best to answer it. Jerk."

"Perhaps it should just be you and I who take care of the problem, angel," Rowena told Castiel.

"It definitely does seem to be the faster option," Castiel agreed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dean held up a hand to them. "You're not goin' anywhere without us."

"Then do us all a favor," Rowena shot back, "And stop squabblin' like a couple o' wee toddlers!"

"Alright, fine," Sam said for the both of them. "Sorry."

"If I wanted to watch siblings fight about nothing, I'd be home watching those Kardashians," she added.

"Alright, we get it!" Dean said.

"I think that we should approach the situation carefully," Castiel said. "Rowena and I should go in first, under the guise of a couple getting a meal together. If the waitress that served you is there, she would recognize the two of you immediately."

"If we don't go in, how're you gonna know which one it is?" Dean asked.

"Observation," Rowena replied. "And I suppose a witness's description might help a wee bit."

*~.~*

The waitress, of course, hadn't been into work since the day after Sam and Dean had eaten there.

"Fat lot of good that did us," Dean said with a bit of frustration apparent in his features. "_Now _what do we do?"

"I got her home address from the manager," Sam told him as they all headed back to the car. "He was gonna head over there to check on her himself, so he was fine handing the job over to us."

"Okay," Dean said. "But I'm driving now."

"What?" Sam asked with a raised brow. "You can't drive, Dean. We don't know if something will happen…"

"Dude, it's been pretty spread ou—" Dean's sentence was cut short as Sam heard a loud snap beside him and turned to look at Dean. Dean cried out as his right leg gave out from under him. The pain was so sudden and overwhelming, he grabbed Sam's arm on his way down to the pavement.

"Dean!" Sam was quick to grab his brother and guide him gently to the ground. "Is it your leg?"

"'s broken," he replied in a tight voice. "Gaaaahhh yeah definitely broken. Fuck." He swallowed against the nausea that accompanied the sudden hot-to-cold flashes that ran through his body.

Cas and Rowena caught up with them quickly. "It's happening again," Cas stated.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Dean grunted out.

"I was under the assumption that these incidents were happening twenty-four hours apart," the angel said. "Your leg is broken in several places. When did this occur originally?"

"When I got thrown into the side of a car by a freakin' Leviathan," Dean answered as he did his best to reign himself in. "Feels the same, too, but somehow a hundred times worse."

"In Bobby's lot?" Sam more confirmed than asked. "Your body was charged with adrenaline, no doubt. The immediate danger and the fact that it was out cold, you weren't focused as much on the pain then."

"Why don't you heal him?" Rowena asked Cas.

"My powers don't work against the curse, Rowena. I thought we explained this."

"Well move aside then," she said as she moved past him and crouched down in front of Dean. She hovered a hand over Dean's affected leg. "Sana os!" she chanted. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened. She stood back up. "It was worth a try."

"It'll be over soon," Dean said, perhaps more to himself than anyone else. As soon as he said it, he felt something snap back into place. It startled him to the point that a shiver ran down his spine.

"You okay?" Sam asked, still crouched beside him with a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah. Help me up?" he asked. Sam stood and held out his hand. Dean grabbed it and pulled himself up in one shot, shaking his right leg and stretching it. "See? All better. Guess you're driving." He took a step toward the passenger seat and groaned, reaching a hand to grip his leg again. "Damn, that's sore as hell." He shook it off though and got into the car. Sam went around and got in the driver's side closing the door after he was in and sat there silently in thought.

"Does that happen every time?" he asked, looking over at Dean who was still rubbing his leg through his jeans.

Dean glanced over. "What?"

"I mean afterward. Do you still feel something every time?"

"Not with the handprint," he replied as he thought. "I _have _felt a bit off since the whole electrocution thing, though. Nothing too bad, just…weird."

"Oh, the bitch must've added the demoratio spell," Rowena said in a dark tone.

"That means 'lingering'," Sam said as he looked back at her. "So, what does that mean, then?"

"It means that traces of the damage from each of the flashback injuries will remain inside of him. The girl means business."

"What's the point in that?" Sam said, feeling like he already knew the answer, but didn't want to be right.

"You boys don't seem to realize what repeated injuries like these would've done to you had you not had your angel to heal you along the way," she replied.

"I did not heal Dean's leg when it was broken," Castiel told her. "I was…not myself."

"The point is that you boys would be dead a hundred times over by now, and I don't mean the deaths you already had. I mean the natural way of things. This girl means for Dean to die…"

*~.~*

"You're waiting out here," Sam told his brother.

"Fine." Dean was pouting. Legit pouting in the passenger seat, arms crossed over his chest like a ten-year-old who just got his Gameboy taken away. Yes, Gameboy. That's what there was when Dean was ten. Not that they ever had one, but that wasn't the point.

Sam wanted to say something, anything to make Dean feel…better—less grumpy…he wasn't even sure. There was nothing to be said, though. There were only actions that could be taken to make this problem go away, and that's what he needed to focus on.

He stepped out of the car and closed the door, patting the top before heading toward the house with the others. There was a doorbell, but when he pressed it nothing happened. He knocked instead. Waited. Knocked again, then moved to the closest window to peek inside. Rowena did the same.

"I don't think anyone's here," she said. Then Cas vanished. Three seconds later, the door was opening from the inside.

"Rowena was right," Cas told Sam. "She isn't here." He stepped aside to let them in the house and they began to look around.

"Look for anything that can tell us she's a witch," Sam said.

"Oh, Samuel," Rowena called from another room, and Sam and Cas quickly made their way toward the sound of her voice. "It's definitely our girl," she told them when they entered the bedroom. She gestured at the altar at the far side of the room. "And she hasn't left town."

"How do you know that?" Sam asked.

"Well there's nothing missing, for one."

"We need to destroy that altar," Cas said.

"We do, indeed," Rowena replied. "But it won't save Dean."

"Why not?" Sam asked worriedly.

"Because this altar was made to protect her from you boys," she told them. "But as I was saying, she hasn't left town because she doesn't think she needs to. Not with this magic."

"We need to stake the place out; catch her when she gets back here," Sam said. "But first…" He stalked to the altar with intent to destroy it.

"Wait!" Rowena called out and Sam paused to look at her. "Destroy that thing and she'll know you're onto her."

"If we don't, we can't touch her, right?"

"Right. But we need to wait until she's back here. Castiel can do what he did before; pop in here and destroy it once she's home. Then your little mouse will be sitting right here in a trap to wait for you." She grinned.

"And if she doesn't come back?"

Rowena made her way to the closet and pulled a scarf from a hanger that held several of them. "I'll be able to find her if she doesn't come home…"

*~.~*

Dean checked his phone for the fifth time, waiting to see if Sam texted him for assistance. He was getting impatient. He was getting nervous. Hell, he was starting to get downright anxious.

Part of him wanted to get out of the car, grab some witch killing bullets from the trunk and storm into the house. Then there was the part that was dominating his thoughts that screamed for him to stay where he was; that it wasn't safe. It was dangerous, and he _should_ be afraid. He _was _afraid, but it was more about what would happen next; what the next flashback injury was going to be because it was getting harder to re-experience them. It was getting harder to hide the pain and the fear.

It wasn't until he saw Sam come out the front door of the house that he felt a little relieved. He realized then that he was out of breath and he couldn't seem to catch it. _"Oh god is this another thing?"_ he thought. His anxiety shot through the roof and he was barely able to keep himself together as he awaited whatever pain would start next…

"Dean!" Cas had the passenger door open in a heartbeat, and he was searching Dean's face for any sign of awareness as the older Winchester hyperventilated.

"What's happening to him?" Sam asked, concern splayed unashamedly on his face as he knelt beside Cas.

"It's not his heart, though his pulse is highly elevated," Castiel told him. "I don't think he's hearing or seeing us right now," he added.

"It's just a panic attack," Rowena told them, calmly squeezing her way to the front of them and putting her hands on either of Dean's shoulders, turning him to put his legs outside of the car and face him to her. "Now, Dean," she said tenderly. "You're panicking, and none of us will judge, but you've got to try and calm yourself."

"H-h-how?" Dean managed to say. Sam and Cas shared a glance.

"Just follow my lead, darlin', and lean forward. That's it, just put your head between your knees. Just like that. You're doing great." Sam was surprised…shocked perhaps by Rowena's display of kindness. "Now just breathe in…and out… In…and out, just like me. Can you do that?" Dean's head made a nodding motion and they watched as he attempted to mimic Rowena who was breathing deeply and slowly as an example. "There you go, my boy. You'll be right as rain before another minute passes."

She turned to Sam and Cas. "We need to get him somewhere where he can rest," she told them. "There were motels along the strip before we turned onto this street."

"Okay, I agree," Sam said. "But the witch—"

"I've put up a spell that will notify me the moment she walks through the front door," Rowena stated. "We'll be right around the corner and Castiel can zap in and take care of the altar in time for us to roll up."

"There's a condemned two-story house at the end of this street," Castiel offered. "Perhaps we can make use of it for a couple of days…"

*~.~*

"I'm so friggin' tired," Dean said as he dragged himself into the dark, empty house with Sam, Cas and Rowena.

"Looks like this place was locked up before anyone could get the furniture out," Sam said. "There's probably a bed upstairs…"

"I'll take the couch," Dean said, pointing in the general direction of the living room. The couch was worn and red but seemed harmless enough. "You guys good without me for a couple hours?"

"Just go to bloody sleep, all of you," Rowena said. "If the spell triggers, it'll wake me."

"I don't require sleep," Castiel told her.

"Yes, yes, we all know. You can keep an eye on Dean, so Sam can get some sleep."

"Thanks, Rowena," Sam said, brows furrowing on and off in continued surprise at her warmth.

"You can save your thanks for after we rid your brother of this nasty curse," she said. "Now off you go, and don't even think about taking the first room on the right. That's mine. I called it."

Tbc…


	4. Chapter 4

It turned out that Rowena was never woken up by the spell trigger. They'd all gotten about four hours of sleep, mind you, but they did get woken up. Just not like they'd expected.

"What the hell?" Sam said groggily when he sat up in the comfort of his own bed… His own bed in the _bunker_. What the hell, indeed.

"_Saaaam_!" That was Dean's voice. It sounded far away and echoing in the halls of the bunker.

"Dean?" Sam pushed out of the bed to go looking for him. As soon as he was out of his bedroom, Cas was right there, out of breath, bumping into him as if he'd been hurrying to come and get him. "Cas, why are we back here?" he asked impatiently, then moving to run toward the sound of Dean's voice.

"_That_ is why," Cas said as he followed after him. "He was screaming so loud, I needed to get him out of there before he drew the wrong kind of attention from the neighborhood. One of them almost called the police, but I put him to sleep."

"_Heeeelllp! Saaaam!" _Dean's voice grew louder, and Sam could hear the incredible level of fear and pain in his voice. He couldn't get their fast enough.

"Oh god…" Sam's heart sank when he skidded to a halt in Dean's room and caught sight of his brother. He had to hold his hand out and look away for a moment. Not that it would do him any good at this point. There was no unseeing this.

Dean was in his bed lying on his back, his clothes torn open in various places all over his body. Blood was everywhere. Sam had the fleeting thought that Dean's favorite memory foam mattress would need to be burned. Sam watched in complete horror as Dean's skin peeled off of him in strips, like some invisible force was using a potato peeler on him in slow motion. "Jesus what the hell is this?!" Sam asked shakily as he tried to move closer to the bed.

"Sammy?" Dean's screaming had died down as his throat was likely as raw as the stripes on his body. His voice was raspy and his breathing came in short bursts like an exhausted canine. "Sammy, I don't…I don't wanna…" and then he was screaming again.

"Dean!" Sam forced himself to the bed and grabbed Dean's bloody hand that hung tightly over his head as if it were tied there. He dropped his knees to the floor. "Dean, I don't know what to do!" Sam told him frantically. "It'll stop soon. It'll stop soon, right?" he asked Cas.

"I don't have an answer to that," Castiel replied over Dean's screams. "It seems that the duration of each relapse depends on the original length of suffering." They both looked back at Dean when the audible evidence of his struggle went from screams to an agonized and constant intake of breath. His back arched up off of the bed and Sam's eyes widened as he saw his brother's chest begin to tear open from the middle, layers of skin and muscle peeling to each side of him like a grotesque butterfly, right before his ribs began to follow suit, breaking one by one.

Sam couldn't speak. He couldn't tear his eyes from Dean's face stuck in a silent scream, eyes no longer seeing anything in this reality. "God…Dean…" Sam's voice was nearly a whisper. "I… I don't… Cas, this isn't a relapsing event… It can't be."

"It is," Castiel said sadly, and Sam turned his head to look at him incredulously. "Dean is reliving Hell."

Sam turned back to his brother as his back lowered down to the mattress once more. Tears fell down his cheeks and onto the mattress to mix with Dean's blood. "How is he even conscious?"

"There is no mercy in Hell, Sam. There is no unconsciousness there. You know this."

Sam did know, but that didn't make this any easier. He shook his head and watched as Dean's body seemed to put itself back together. "It's over," Sam said with a bit of relief in his voice.

"Sam," Cas said.

"I think it's over," Sam repeated, not ready to hear what Cas had to say. "Dean? Dean, can you hear me?"

Dean had been staring straight ahead at the ceiling since the screaming stopped. His face was covered in sweat and blood just like the rest of him. He was shaking, Sam realized. From head to toe, Dean was shaking as though he'd taken a dive into the Antarctic Sea in February. Sam put his hand on his brother's forehead, trying to keep the blood from getting into his eyes. Slowly Dean's head turned toward Sam. "Sam-my…" he said, his voice barely registering. "Sam…" his voice cracked, and his face scrunched into anguish. "Please make it stop. Please make it stop, Sammy…" He squeezed Sam's hand as hard as he could.

"Does it still hurt?" Sam asked, his own tears building with Dean's. But Dean's face turned away again, and Sam watched as Dean's skin began to peel down in strips again, reigniting Dean's screams. "No! No, damnit, what is this? Why is it happening again?!"

"Dean was in Hell for forty years, Sam," Castiel reminded him. Sam looked back at him again, pleadingly, and it was then that he noticed the angel's own tear-streaked face. "I wish that I could stop this…"

"Where's Rowena?" Sam yelled. "She needs to help him!"

"She can't help him any more than I can, Sam, you know that."

"But she can try! She can… maybe at least knock him out?"

Castiel could see the desperation in Sam's expression. "I'll try and find her. She's not where I left her."

The angel zapped himself to the library of the bunker. Dean's screams echoed off the walls like a terrible symphony and it made his chest ache with sympathy. But he needed to focus on finding Rowena, wherever she'd decided to hide. It would only take him a moment to search every room in the bunker. He found her in a broom closet on the farthest away side of the bunker from Dean's bedroom. No doubt it was in an attempt to get away from Dean's tortured screams, alas, they could still be heard.

When he found her, she was on her knees in the middle of a symbol she'd drawn on the floor. Her face pointed at the ceiling and her eyes were wide open, but he could only see the whites of them. She was doing magic, he'd concluded, but whether it was simply to block out her surroundings or to actually help in some way, he was uncertain.

"Rowena," he said loud enough to get her attention. Slowly her eyes rolled back into their God-given position and she lowered her head to look at him straight on. "Is there a spell that could at least allow Dean to be unconscious?" He got right to the point.

"If there was anything I could do to end Dean's suffering, don't you think I'd have done it already?" she asked. There was none of her usual snarkiness or manipulative tone in voice. Castiel could only hear helplessness in it.

"What were you doing just now?" he asked in a more understanding voice.

"If you must know, I was trying to find the girl," she replied. "That trigger spell canny work this far away from it. She could be there now. If only I'd left a tether so I could kill her from here."

"We'll get a chance to kill her, in time. I'm just uncertain that we'll be able to do it as we'd planned."

"If there's anything I've learned in my very long time on this Earth, it's that things often stray far from what we plan.

"I concur," Castiel said with a knowing expression. "More often than not."

"But if I've learned anything from my time with the Winchesters, it's that there's more than one way to skin a cat." They both grimaced at the same time. "Poor choice of words."

"Very unfortunate timing."

*~.~*

"Dean, I'm so sorry," Sam cried as he held onto his brother the best he could. "I wish I could make this stop." Dean was on his side now, half in Sam's lap as he clung to the front of Sam's shirt, anticipating another round of Hell. He couldn't stop himself from shaking. He couldn't bring his breathing under control. He couldn't stop the level of fear that'd taken over every cell in his body, thrusting him back into his mindset when he was there last—in the pit of despair. Alastair flashed in his mind. That's what he was seeing with the relapses now; Alastair carving into him over and over. Alastair trying to break him. Alastair eventually succeeding.

He was terrified.

All Sam could do was hold him. There were no more words that could make it better. There were no actions that could be taken in this moment, though he did contemplate dropping a bomb in the middle of the city. So many innocents, though. But Sam was known to go a bit insane when it came to his brother.

No. He'd stay right here where he was. If Dean needed him to hold onto, he'd damn well give it to him, it didn't matter how long it took. As he held tighter when a particularly hard tremor ran through Dean's middle, he tried to calculate the time-scale of this spell. The electrical shock that stopped Dean's heart all those years back had taken just moments, and he hadn't healed from it until a couple days later when he swapped death-times with some young jogger, courtesy of a reaper being led by strings. If two days of suffering equaled two minutes of relapse, then… Okay, so forty years in Hell, but maybe it'd go by topside-time. Four months. That's a hundred and twenty days, give or take. That'd mean what…two hours of suffering? Unless it _wasn't _going by topside-time. Then it'd be more like a hundred and forty hours…? Damnit…this wasn't helping at all.

In the amount of time he'd been calculating, however, it seemed that Dean hadn't had another episode. If this thing was over, his calculations were all wrong, and there was no rhyme or reason to the relapses. Of course, he was completely fine with being wrong if it meant Dean didn't have to go through this particular relapse again.

"Dean?" he said quietly. "I think it might be over. I think you're okay now." He started to move to get up, but Dean reinforced his grip, moving his arm to hold around Sam's middle so he couldn't get away.

"Please don't go," Dean said in a soft, shaky voice. "Please don't leave me, Sammy. Stay. Please stay…"

"Okay, De," Sam replied, his heart breaking a little more at the haunted sound in his brother's voice. "I'll stay as long as you want. I promise." He held him closer.

*~.~*

"I want this bitch's head on a platter!" Dean growled angrily the next morning, pacing the floor of the house they'd squatted in before their abrupt trip back to the bunker.

"We all do, Dean," Sam replied, a yawn then taking over him.

Dean saw the dark circles under his brother's eyes. He'd feel like crap about it if he wasn't so preoccupied with feeling embarrassed about using him as a teddy bear the night before. The nightmares of Hell had been far and few between the last several years. They'd seen and done enough since then to give his subconscious plenty more to make sure his nights were restless.

Sam now had more material for his own nightmares. It was the real reason he was so godawful tired this morning. While Dean had passed out from the exertion the relapse took on his body, Sam was plagued with mere minutes of sleep at a time throughout the night; each planting terrible visions of Dean's suffering, his mind filling in the blanks where Sam had only witnessed Dean's side of it.

For Dean's sake, Sam tried to shove it all aside like his brother seemed to have done. The emotional part of it, anyway. The fact that Dean was pretty consistently rubbing at his chest showed that there was residual pain. The problem was, every time Sam saw Dean's hand go to his chest, the image of his ribs breaking one at a time flooded into his mind.

Castiel's breakfast offerings to the lot of them were going practically untouched. Rowena and Sam were picking small bits here and there, but mostly pushing the food around with their forks. It didn't go unseen from the angel when Sam's face took a green tint and he pushed his plate a little away from himself. If he didn't know what they all must be feeling this morning, he'd have wondered if he'd done a terrible job selecting the restaurant to get their food from.

"You should try and sleep again," the angel said to Sam.

"What?" Sam asked as he looked over at him with narrowed eyes. "I'm not sleeping until we're done burning this girl's dead, decapitated body."

"Decapitated?" Castiel inquired.

"Her head'll need to be on a platter first," Rowena said.

"Perhaps adding more grotesque images to the serving of food isn't the best choice right now," he replied. Sam crinkled his nose, but actually let out a small, breathy laugh at the angel's words.

"We shouldn't keep waiting around like this," Sam said. "Rowena, can you do that tracking spell now? There's no sense in waiting until she decides to get home. This is just getting worse."

"Agreed," Dean said. "We need to end this before whatever else is coming gets here. I'm seriously not looking forward to it."

"I hope you don't mind I fetched the items I'd need while we were at the bunker," she replied. "I planned to do it today whether or not you'd decided to ask me."

"As long as that's _all _you fetched," Dean said.

"Well I _had_ set my mind on a naughty magazine I'd come across, but I didn't want to deprive you of your preferences for rather large chebs on some of God's tiniest human creations." After a moment Dean smirked at that, and Rowena followed suit.

"Okay gross," Sam said as he shook his head. "I'm gonna get more coffee. You should start the spell." He pushed up from the table and grabbed his empty to-go cup. "You need anything while I'm out?" Sam directed his question at Dean.

Dean shrugged for a moment. "I wouldn't mind the newest edition of that magazine we were just talking about," he said with one corner of his mouth turned up.

"Right," Sam replied with a raised brow. "So I'm not getting that. If you think of anything, call me."

"Maybe a wee bit of Charlie to get us through the day," Rowena said, only half-joking.

"What?" Dean asked, as confused as Castiel seemed in that moment.

"Charlie is dead, as you well know," the angel said.

"She means cocaine," Sam said with a sigh. "Don't you have some kinda spell for 5-hour energy?"

"For _me, _Moose," she replied with a smirk and batted her eyes.

"Well for the rest of us, I think a Red Bull will do," Dean said.

"I don't require…"

"Yeah, I know, but you're gonna have one anyway."

"I'm not sure how a bull of any color would give you the energy you require."

Dean and Sam simultaneously shook their heads, amused. "This is gonna be like hot-boxing a cat," Dean said with a smirk.

*~.~*

Rowena sat at on the worn, red couch with the ingredients for the tracking spell set up on the coffee table in front of her. The others stood around to watch her progress. "Quaero quis," she began. "Sit nocituri patieris…" Suddenly he eyes opened and she seemed perturbed. "Oh you've got to be kidding me," she said.

"What is it?" Sam asked with furrowed brows.

"She just bloody triggered the detection spell at the house," she replied. "Such a waste of good materials," she said as she tried to save the remaining items on the table.

Sam looked to the angel. "Cas, you remember the plan?"

"Of course," he replied. "I'll go now." Castiel disappeared, off to destroy the altar as the rest of them headed for the door.

"Gah!" Dean's sudden cry made them stop in their tracks and they turned to see him with his hand over the right side of his forehead, blood dripping through his fingers.

"Dean?" Sam's eyes widened as Dean met his gaze. Then Dean began to stagger and dropped to his knees. "Dean!" Sam rushed to him, kneeling down in front of him and grabbing onto his shoulders to keep him upright. Dean's face seemed eerily emotionless, his eyes wandering aimlessly on his brother's face. Then his eyes squeezed closed, face pinching with pain as he bowed his head. That's when Sam noticed the front of Dean's shirt beginning to spot with blood in a very specific and familiar fashion.

Suddenly Castiel was back and seemed to be out of breath. "She knows we're here," he told them in frustration. "She's warded me out of the house. I couldn't get to the altar."

"We have to kill her, right now!" Sam shouted as he watched blood pour from Dean's mouth. "She's killing him!"

Tbc…


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: To my reviewers: a giant thanks! It always motivates me to keep going. **

*~.~*

"Come now, angel," Rowena said as she looked over to him where he stood beside her. "Take me to the house. I'll see if can destroy the wards. If not, I'll try and get to the altar myself."

Sam looked back at them in panic. "Go!" he told them, agreeing with Rowena's plan. Then he turned back to Dean as he groaned and seemed to straighten up. "Hey. You back with me?" Sam asked.

"I really hate this bitch," Dean replied, wiping away the residual blood from his forehead. Sam helped him to stand up and immediately needed to keep him from falling over. "Man, I think this house is on water," he said, confusing Sam for a moment. "Why's it moving so much?"

"It's…" Sam's forehead relaxed at the realization. This residual stain was affecting his brain. "You think you can make it to the car?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, Sam, I'm okay," he replied, trying to get the worried look off of his brother's face. "Just a little dizzy."

"Okay. Good," Sam said, not quite believing him but accepting it for the time being. "Let's get that bitch on a platter, yeah?" Dean gave him a weak smile. "I'll drive."

*~.~*

"I hate when I'm impressed by someone I want to kill," Rowena said as she examined the sigils on the house. "It's too bad she didn't also know about _me_." She readied herself in front of the wall. "Sororibus vanis, iactatos aequore toto!" she incanted, and a bright flash proved her success. She grabbed Castiel's hand. "Well come on then! In we go!"

Castiel did as ordered and zapped them into the house, more specifically the room in which the alter stood. What they didn't expect was for Beth to be standing there ready for them. Her hand hovered over a bloody symbol on the wall and a grin showed up on her face right before she pressed her hand against it. The angel only had time to widen his eyes before he was cast out of the house to who knows where.

"Who the hell are _you_," Beth asked when she saw that Rowena remained. Rowena opened her mouth to answer, but Beth had the sudden inclination to trap her where she stood. "Nolite in vestri semita!" A yellowish light engulfed the floor beneath Rowena for just a moment.

"Ooo you _little_ devil!" Rowena growled. "If you don't know who I am, you'll surely find out the hard way…" Before Rowena finished the statement, Beth left the room. "Well… _That_ was certainly rude."

*~.~*

"They must be inside," Sam said as they snuck up to the house. "Think we should go in the front way?"

"The back way is too much work," Dean said. At first Sam thought it was just another attempt at juvenile innuendo, but upon looking back at his brother he realized that Dean seemed confused by what he'd even said.

"C'mon," Sam said, worry kicking up a notch as he dragged him to the front door. Sam tried the doorknob before kicking the door in.

"That's her, Sammy," Dean said in a low, frightened voice as they entered. Beth was standing there with a cocky grin.

"Nolite in vestri semita," she recited a second time, her hands facing Sam's body. He suddenly couldn't move, and he looked to Dean whom she hadn't bothered to include in the spell. "Sorry, Sam," she told him. "You seemed like a nice guy, but you understand I couldn't let you try anything."

"You need to remove the curse from Dean, _now!_" Sam demanded. "You're killing him!"

"That's kinda the point," she replied, now slowly pacing in front of them. "I was hoping you'd swing by so I could take care of _you_, too."

"You don't have to do this, Beth," he argued. "The coven is gone. You don't have to prove anything!"

"The coven?" she mockingly asked with a raised brow. "Oh, that little coven you boys burned down? It's true, I was pretty pissed about it at first. I had big plans to take over that joint. I only cursed Dean, here, because you seemed to be less blasé about the whole thing. Once word got around about what I did to him, fans started pouring in from all over," she said with a smile. "See, I had no idea who I'd served that night at the diner. I just assumed you were a couple of trigger-happy hunters. When the demons told me that you two were Sam and Dean _Winchester_, imagine my surprise. I didn't have a choice but to make sure I'd finished you both off. A girl can't worry about looking over her shoulder all the time after all."

"So what, you're just gonna kill me?" Sam asked with narrowed eyes. "You're gonna play dirty and make sure I can't fight back? What kind of war story is that gonna be for your new Hell buddies?"

"Oh I'll let you out once you've got nothing left to lose," she said and looked to Dean as he dropped to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth before he fell the rest of the way to the floor. "Shouldn't be much longer now…"

*~.~*

Rowena had been trying different incantations to get herself out of the trap Beth had sprung on her. She didn't know who Rowena was. The spell had to be fairly simple. Yet nothing had worked so far.

"Novis!" She tried the simplest of them all, in her opinion, and she cursed under her breath that she hadn't tried it first because it had just freed her.

*~.~*

Sam swallowed against the dryness in his throat. "Listen… It doesn't have to be this way."

"You've gotta be willing to do whatever it takes to seize your moment," she told him.

"Did…" Dean coughed as he recovered from his relapse with stomach cancer. "Did you just…quote Coco?"

Beth sighed. "Ugh. Would you just hurry up and die?"

Sam felt the hold Beth had over him suddenly release, and he took his chance to rush and tackle her. She seemed surprised that he was suddenly free of her spell, but as he made contact with her body he simply slid off of her like she'd been a greased-up pole, then went crashing to the other side of the room. She smiled devilishly at him as he pushed up off of the floor intent to fight her still. She faced him now as he picked up a dining room chair, charging her and slamming it into the side of her body. The chair broke into pieces. Beth didn't even flinch. Sam's face went slack.

"Okay, Sam," she said almost cheerfully. "Let's play!" Sam glanced to Dean, who had gone completely still on the floor, his eyes closed and his chest unmoving. They were too late.

Beth held a hand up toward him and Sam stood tall and ready for whatever she might do. If he couldn't save Dean, she might just as well just take them both…

*~.~*

Moments earlier from Dean's POV…

His head hurt like Hell. He couldn't remember why, but he knew Sam was really worried about it. He also couldn't figure out why he felt so scared. It almost felt like when he'd had the ghost sickness, except he knew it wasn't that. He felt shaky and small. He felt…weak.

He could her his brother talking to a woman. The woman was bad news. That's all he could think about when he looked at her. That and…for some reason chocolate shakes. He wasn't sure why or how chocolate shakes connected to this villainous lady, but it didn't seem like it should be so important either, so he quit thinking about it. Thinking hurt anyway.

Dean looked over at his brother. He looked tense. Worried. Angry. Mostly worried though because he kept glancing over at Dean and every time their eyes met, he seemed to get even more upset.

A feeling started somewhere in Dean gut. Just a strange little feeling that suddenly grew terribly intense and he couldn't _not _voice the pain. It made him gag and it immediately brought whatever was in his stomach up. It just so happened that 'whatever' was blood.

Dean had seen plenty of blood in his lifetime. He honestly had mixed feeling about it most times, but right now, looking down at his red-stained hands, he felt genuinely confused. Had he been shot?

The pain brought him to his knees and he gagged again, bringing up even more blood. His vision was swimming as he looked from the woman to Sam and back down at his bloody hands again. The room began to tilt, and he was soon laid out on the carpet on his side, struggling to keep conscious. He could hear Sam yelling. He was upset. He was scared, just like Dean was. He needed to stay awake. He needed to help Sammy…

Then it was suddenly over. There was still an ache in the pit of his stomach and his head still hurt like hell, but the paralyzing pain had disappeared. He pushed to sit up on his knees.

"You've gotta be willing to do whatever it takes to seize your moment," the woman said. It was genuinely the only words he'd been able to comprehend in a while now, and they reminded him of this animated thing he'd ended up watching on Netflix a couple of months back. Ernesto de la Cruz. Coco. That was it.

"Did…" He had to stop and cough. Apparently, some blood had lingered in his throat. "Did you just…quote Coco?" he asked.

"Ugh. Would you just hurry up and die?" she replied. Dean frowned. That wasn't a very nice thing to say, and he was pretty sure that wasn't the next line in the dialogue either.

He watched as Sam sprang into action, running toward the bad lady to attack her. Somehow he'd managed to miss and crash into the other side of the room. The overwhelming need to get up and help Sam was strong, but something was happening to his insides right then. As much as he tried to suck it up, pushing up nearly to stand, the pain contracted his muscles and forced him back to the floor.

"Sammy…" Dean called out, but it came out as a whisper and there was no way Sam had heard him. He watched as his brother went at the woman, chair in-hand, and crashed it against her. She was still standing. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was the look of shock on his brother's face…

Tbc…


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Idek, guys. I just…this is where the story took me. Let me know if you want me to go on.**

***~.~***

When Castiel was able to return to the bedroom, he found Rowena frantically rummaging through the items on the altar, which meant she hadn't destroyed it yet, and Sam and Dean would still be very much in danger.

"What are you doing?" he asked impatiently as he stormed up to the altar.

"You canny just knock this one down, angel," she replied. "She's got something here of both Sam and Dean's. They have to be burned or the spell won't break."

"It would have to have come from the diner," Castiel said as he began to look with her.

"Not necessarily," she replied. "I've been listening in on their discussion being had. She's been in cahoots with demons and who knows what else. All of them not the Winchester's biggest fans, and all of them willing to help Beth however they can in this matter. They could've given her _anything_."

Castiel took this into consideration, then immediately spotted a brass vial with two red gems on it sitting beside one of the candles. He took it and opened it, lifting it to his nose so that he could smell it.

"This is it," he told her. "Sam and Dean's blood are mixed into this capsule."

"Put it here," she told him, indicating a silver bowl on the table. Castiel complied and Rowena rubbed her hands together before placing them near the bowl. "Inferno!" she said. Purple flames licked over the vial, the intense magical heat causing it to boil into liquid and mix with the blood, and then evaporate completely…

*~.~*

Beth had made a fist in front of herself pointing toward Sam, and he grasped at his neck to try and pry invisible hands from around his throat.

"I don't understand why everyone thinks you're so tough," she said. "This has been a cake walk. Soon you'll be joining your brother, and I'll be crowned queen of the damned." She smiled excitedly. But her smile began to fade a bit as Sam seemed to try and speak through his closing throat, an amused look having overcome his features. She released him just enough to let him talk. "What's so damn funny?" she asked.

Sam's intake of air made a squeaking noise. "There's… no such thing," he told her, his lids becoming more and more difficult to keep open. "Queen…of the Damned… is a… crappy sci-fi movie from…over a decade ago. Not even…important enough…to be on Netflix…" Beth narrowed her eyes at him, her gaze shifting slightly at his words. "You got…played…"

Her eyes closed for a moment, and her body showed when she relaxed again. Her eyes opened. "It doesn't matter," she told him. "You still die today." She crushed her hand into fist again and Sam's eye rolled into the back of his head in helplessness.

A sudden, deafening shot rang out, and a bright red spot appeared in Beth's forehead, blood then dripping down between her widened, dead eyes before she slumped lifelessly to the floor. Sam collapsed once her suffocating grip released him, and his body used all of its strength to pull in much-needed oxygen. His eyes opened and focused to see Dean standing there with his gun still pointed where Beth's head had been.

"Sammy okay?" he asked, looking over at his brother worriedly. Sam couldn't answer yet. He just stared, awestruck that Dean was even alive. Dean dropped his gun to the floor and took a few steps toward him. "Sammy okay?" he asked again, crouching down in front of his brother.

It took a moment for Sam to realize that he hadn't heard him wrong, and that it was Dean who was speaking oddly.

"I'm okay, Dean," he said, almost getting his breath back completely. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Dean pulled Sam into an embrace. "Glad Sammy's okay," he said. "I was scared, and I couldn't help you."

Sam swallowed against a lump in his throat as he gently pulled away from Dean and looked him in the eyes. There was something so clear there, so clearly _not_ there, and it brought tears to Sam's eyes immediately.

"Sammy?" Dean said, new concern washing over his features. "Don't cry, Sammy. It's okay. I'm okay."

Sam pulled Dean back into an embrace, letting the tears fall then. Dean had always been there for Sam. He'd always taken care of him, sacrificed everything for him, even when he hadn't wanted him to. Nothing in the whole world could stop Sam from being there for his big brother. "Yeah, Dean. Everything's okay. I… I'll take care of you, okay?"

_Take care of him. _Take care of him because the residual affects hadn't gone away with Beth's demise. The damage had been done, and certainly not just to his body. If there was anything that Sam's knew, it was that no one could ever seem to heal the mind…

"Sam! Dean! Thank God," Castiel's voice sounded as he entered the room with Rowena. Upon seeing Sam's face, however, Castiel's relief soon vanished again. "Sam?" he queried as he approached the two of them. "What's wrong? Beth is dead. The curse should be lifted."

"But the residual affects remain," Rowena surmised.

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head before pulling away from Dean again. He wiped the tears from his face and accepted help from both Cas and Dean to stand up. He winced at the painful ache in his throat.

"Here. Let me help you," the angel said and proceeded to heal him. "And you, Dean," he said as he turned to the older brother and touched his forehead. Dean immediately felt and looked better, but no one missed the curious and concerned look that flashed over Castiel's face.

The angel soon realized why Sam had seemed so upset. He turned to him again. "Don't worry, Sam. His mind isn't broken. There's damage to his brain which is an exceedingly difficult and slow process to heal, but it can be done."

"I got brain damage?" Dean asked, looking from Castiel to Sam. "I'm broken?"

"No, Dean, you're not broken," Sam told him. "You're just not a hundred percent right now, but that'll change, okay? You're gonna get better."

"Because you're gonna take care of me?"

"Yeah. Yeah that's right," Sam said, conjuring up the best smile he could manage.

"You should get him home, Sam," Castiel told him. "I could take you there now. I can finish up here afterward."

"No, no, that's… That's okay, Cas. We can't leave without the Impala. Isn't that right, Dean?"

"That's _my_ car," Dean said. "She can't be left here. Sammy's right. We can drive home. Can't we, Sam?"

"Yeah, we can drive home just fine," Sam agreed, then looked to Cas. "You sure you got this?"

"If you're certain you'll be alright driving back," he replied.

"We'll be fine," he replied, then glanced over at Rowena. "You need a ride?"

"I'll stay here and help out," she told him.

Sam nodded in acknowledgment. "Thank you," he told her. "Both of you, for what you did. If you hadn't been here…"

"You boys basically saved yourselves, as always," Rowena replied.

"But I know you broke that holding spell," he told her.

"Fat lot of good it did you."

"Still." He shrugged.

"Thank you for helping us," Dean said, and Rowena's brows furrowed in a moment of confusion and surprise as the older brother approached her and gave her a hug. "You're a good person," he added. Rowena wasn't sure whether to be appalled or to weep.

"You're worth saving, Dean," she told him quietly, returning the embrace. "There's no need for thanks." They pulled away and Dean smiled at her. She smiled back weakly, then glanced to Sam with sorry eyes.

Dean then turned to Castiel and hugged him as well. "Thanks for healing me. That really sucked ass," he told him. Castiel smiled and let out a breathy laugh through his nose as he hugged him back. "And for healing Sam." They pulled away and Dean clapped him on a shoulder a couple of times, then began to lose his balance for just a moment. Cas helped him to stay upright.

"You're always welcome, Dean," the angel replied, unable to avoid the tightening in his throat at Dean's rare display of affection.

"You'll come over? I can make us some grub. I still know how to do that. I mean…I think I do."

"Sure, they'll come over, Dean," Sam answered for them. "We'll celebrate our victory, but maybe not until tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. You hear that?" Dean asked as he looked back and forth between Rowena and Cas. "Sam said you can come over tomorrow…

*~.~*

They had driven in silence for the first few minutes of the trip back to the bunker. Dean had figured out how to play Tetris on his phone and was concentrating pretty hard on it. Normally playing on the phone was one of the ways they avoided talking, but Dean seemed to be enjoying the distraction from the drive, and truth be told, Sam was grateful for some time with his thoughts.

Castiel said he could he Dean over time, but that didn't guarantee that he'd be back to himself 100%. Seeing as how Dean seemed to be a little more…maybe carefree, less worried, would it really be such a bad thing if that was what happened? On the other hand, could Dean still hunt like this? It wasn't like he was void of all thought. Other than the whole balance thing and the fact that his demeanor seemed to lack the anger or frustration or…just some _thing_ that made Dean _Dean_, at this point there was no way to tell. He'd had no problem aiming his weapon. Well…assuming he'd been aiming for the head, of course, and he probably had.

He'd said he'd wanted to make them food for when Rowena and Castiel would come over the following day, so Sam supposed that was a good sign. But it wasn't like they'd had much time with this issue yet. They'd figure it out with time, but maybe that was the scariest part; not knowing where it would pop up.

"Sammy?" Sam was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of Dean's quiet voice and he looked over at him for a moment, noting that Dean had put the phone away.

"What's up?" Sam asked.

"I'm real tired," Dean told him.

"You can crash if you wanna," Sam replied, brows furrowing before straightening again. "Want me to pull over so you can stretch out in the back?"

"Nuh uh," he said shaking his head. "I can sleep here just fine." He started shifting to lay his head on the window beside him.

"You sure?" he asked. Dean nodded and closed his eyes. Within minutes Dean was snoring softly. Sam relaxed a bit and took a deep breath. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. They could take some much-needed time off. They could do normal-people things. Well, mostly normal anyway. They could watch Netflix and binge on pizza and just be brothers. Just _be_. At least until Dean was back to himself and unable to sit still for five minutes without looking for something to kill.

An hour and thirty or so minutes later, Sam was in the middle of pondering what they could start watching once they got back, when Dean started talking in his sleep. Not that it was anything Sam could understand, but he was definitely having a conversation with _someone_ in his dream. The corner of his mouth turned up a little as he watched him sleep on, then turned his attention back to the road. Just a couple of minutes had gone by before Dean's dream conversation turned ugly. He was twitching where he lay, and his face took on a look of fear.

Sam hesitated. His instinct forced him to pull off to the side of the road and put the car in park before turning to try and wake his brother. "Dean?" he started off quietly.

Dean shook his head, still deep asleep. "Nn, nn. No…don't…" Sam's worry kicked up a notch and he tried a little more force.

"Dean, hey, you're just dreaming. Can you wake up?" he asked as he shook him by the shoulder. "Dean, wake up!"

Dean's eyes flew open and he sucked in a breath as he sat up. Sam could feel a tremor run through him as he sat there trying to collect his bearings.

"You okay, Dean?" he asked softly. Dean looked over at him with frightened eyes. "It was just a dream, okay?"

Dean shook his head. "I was in Hell," he said shakily. Sam's stomach dropped.

"N-not just now you weren't," Sam told him. "That was a nightmare. You're safe now."

"Safe…with Sammy," Dean said.

"Yeah," Sam said, his focus now keeping the sudden sting in his eyes from going any further. "Yeah, I'll keep you safe, Dean," he told him, and Dean shifted closer to his brother, his head settling on Sam's shoulder.

"You keep the nightmare from coming back, okay?"

"Uh… yeah. Yeah, I'll make sure it stays away. Go ahead and try to get back to sleep. We'll be home before you know it…"

Tbc…


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Sorry guys. I've been bogged down with assignments and papers with school this past several days. Not to mention editing an upcoming book. I'd felt pretty constructive when I threw in writing a fanfic, but I had started ignoring the other stuff to do it…which in all honesty is exactly what I used to do all the time back when I was constantly writing fanfic. It's a great feeling to be back, but it's super overwhelming to try and do so much at once! So I'm finishing up this story here and I hope to get back to more fanfic writing once my editing is done with my book. (btw if you're interested, look on Amazon for Where the Teddy Bears Have Their Picnic, by C.M. Adams. But right now I'm trying out a new platform, so look for it on inkitt dot com. It's free right now! T****he book I'm working on now is another in the series with those characters. **

***~.~***

1:07am. That's what Sam's phone said when he checked it for the fourth time that night. He'd dozed on and off but couldn't seem to stay asleep for very long.

Dean had gone to sleep a few hours ago and Sam couldn't stop thinking about the fact that his big brother was not himself right now. He was scared that Cas might be wrong; might not be able to completely fix Dean's brain. It wasn't that he was afraid he'd have to deal with the change for the rest of his life, but that it would be more difficult to keep Dean safe. Sure, they could try and leave the life. They could stay in the bunker and just be like a dispatch for hunters. But in all reality, getting out of the life never quite worked out for them, and he couldn't expect it to be any different now.

On the plus side, Dean seemed less angry. Maybe the damage had let it bounce off of him, Sam couldn't be sure. He just knew that this version of Dean was less self-hating, angry, guilt-ridden…maybe it wasn't such a bad thing if he didn't get better.

Of course, this is what he'd thought during the witch curse _before_ this witch curse had happened. That was a little different though. There was a huge difference between letting things go and forgetting them altogether. Still, it felt wrong to want him to stay this way, and Sam felt like a dick even thinking about it. Even if he could make it work.

"Sammy?" came Dean's voice suddenly and quietly from the doorway, and Sam would've noticed sooner had the phone screen not still been lit up. He rolled over quickly, sitting up partially in the bed as he clicked the light on. Dean was looking tired and a little scared and…oh so small.

"Dean? You okay?" Sam asked.

"Can… Can I sleep in here with you?" he asked in an even quieter voice. "The nightmare keeps coming back because I'm all alone. I need you to keep it away again. Please?" His arms were hugged around himself and he shifted awkwardly where he stood.

"Sure," Sam said as he moved over on the already small bed. "C'mon." He patted the mattress and lifted the thin blanket for him.

Dean gratefully crossed the room and crawled into the bed, curling up into Sam's side. It made Sam think back to the last time he'd done the same to Dean. He must've been eleven. He'd had a nightmare, too, but his was about Dean and their dad getting taken by monsters…

"You're my best brother," Dean said as he snaked an arm around Sam's middle, his head tucked onto his shoulder.

"You're _my _best brother," Sam replied with a smile at the absurdity of it all. "You took care of me whenever I got scared too, remember?" Dean seemed to think about that for a few moments before Sam felt him nod. "You always took care of me. Even when I was a pain in the butt." Dean snickered at that. "So of course you can stay with me if you need to. Any time you need to, okay?" Dean yawned big which made Sam smile again. "I love you, Dean."

"I love you too, Sam. G'night."

"Goodnight."

*~.~*

"So, let me get this straight," Dean said as he paced beside the table in the library. "For the past couple weeks, I've had a fried brain and you just _let me_ snuggle in bed with you every night? What the hell?"

Sam couldn't keep the grin off his face. "Dude, you were having nightmares. How was I supposed to tell you 'no'?"

"You _tell me_ to rub some dirt in it! Give me a bottle of whiskey! I dunno!"

"Yeah, like you'd have done that if it'd been me."

"I'd have gotten you drunk before bed is what I would've done. You sleep like a baby when you're drunk."

"Uh huh," Sam replied, not buying what he was selling. "That's not what you did when I was a kid."

"Key words there: being a kid. There's a difference."

"Maybe not, though. I mean…it sorta felt like you were." Dean looked like he was about to retort but Sam stopped him. "Look, man. All I know is that…you needed me, and I wasn't gonna let you down." He said it in a smaller voice. One that got to Dean every damn time. Dean wiped a hand down his face, then stopped his pacing and plopped down in a chair across from his brother. "I'd have kept doing it," Sam told him.

"What?"

"If Cas couldn't have fixed you," he elaborated. "It's not how I'd pictured us ending the life, but… You know I'd do anything for you, right?" Dean's eyes shifted between Sam's and down at the table top. "Just like you've done everything for me my whole life. I wouldn't have left you."

"Dude, there are innocent people out there that need our help. You can't just—"

"_You_ are innocent people, Dean."

"You've gotta be joking…"

"No, I'm not. I know you like to carry around all this…guilt and stuff and it makes you feel like you've somehow wronged the universe, but you're so wrong. You're a hero. You're _my _hero."

"I'm not a hero, Sam."

"You need to look up the definition, man. I'm pretty sure your picture is right next to it."

"Stop," he deadpanned. "You're making me blush."

"I'm serious, Dean. And no matter how much you might think otherwise, you'll always be a hero to me."

"For the past 15 days I've been snuggling my little brother."

"Because of the damage you took to the brain while saving hundreds of lives!" Dean made a face. "You've literally sacrificed yourself over and over, just to save other people. To save me."

"It's my job, Sam."

"Well you could've quit whenever you wanted to," Sam retorted. "Hell, I did. Twice." Dean put his forehead down on the table top with a sigh. "The point is," Sam continued. "You don't need to be all embarrassed just because you needed _me_ for a little while. And I'm not going to apologize for giving you what you needed. It's just…not gonna happen, so give it up."

Dean looked up at him for a long moment, took a breath as he straightened, and rolled his eyes with an exhale. "Okay fine. We'll never speak of it again." He tapped his fingers on the table top. "Now, I'm hungry," he said as he pushed away from the table and stood. "We got anything here, or do I need to make a run?"

"What you need to do is _cook_ us something," Sam replied. "All you've wanted for the past couple weeks is fruity pebbles and Kraft mac n cheese."

"First off, that's the food of the gods. Let's just get that straight. Secondly, you really need to learn how to tell a kid 'no' sometimes. You think you'd be as freakishly tall as you are now if I didn't make you eat your vegetables?"

"You weren't a kid, Dean…"

"Well I was kind of a kid. I clearly didn't make any rational decisions."

"Yeah because giving you whiskey would've been a better solution."

"Dude…just gotta roll with the punches," he said with a grin.

"Just go make us some dinner, will you?" Sam said with raised brows and a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Fine, fine…" Dean stalked away toward the kitchen.

Sam watched until he disappeared from his vision, then closed his eyes for a moment. _"Thanks, Cas,"_ he prayed. _"You really did it…"_

*~.~*

**The end~**


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